


Through a Lens of Stained Glass

by The_Pen_Dragon



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Introspection, M/M, Maruki's delusional views, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Spoilers for third term, character study in a way, goro/akira is only heavily implied, poem-like writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24696751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Pen_Dragon/pseuds/The_Pen_Dragon
Summary: Reality, like all things, holds many imperfections. To deconstruct pain is to deconstruct the soul of reality itself. To reinvent what is and what has been, to give the gift of ignorance to all who seek refuge from torment. The children of Eden suffered greatly for their curiosity, the unbearable burden of knowledge. Let it be erased, and let all find bliss in the absence of anything else.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Maruki Takuto/Rumi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Through a Lens of Stained Glass

_ Reality, like all things, holds many imperfections. To deconstruct pain is to deconstruct the soul of reality itself. To reinvent what is and what has been, to give the gift of ignorance to all who seek refuge from torment. The children of Eden suffered greatly for their curiosity, the unbearable burden of knowledge. Let it be erased, and let all find bliss in the absence of anything else.  _

The migraines had always bothered him. 

He woke at two in the morning. 

He sat up, on the left side of a double bed that had been empty for many years. Her absence did not make the bed any lighter. 

He took two pills for his growing headache, and looked quietly next to him. The cold, perfectly fluffed pillow mocked him. 

She got her happiness. And he would never trade it. Never be so selfish as to want her back. But he couldn't help himself missing her sometimes. Often. Every morning. He took a deep breath and got out of bed, walking to the window. Everything was alright, things were about to turn around for him. 

He had seen them, those children, and he knew where they had been. He had never been there himself, but he had always known of that other world. And now, with great luck that he felt blessed to have, these children had stumbled across his path. 

Soon enough, all would be clear. He was sure of it. 

\---

Dark eyes and a quiet demeanor belied an intensity that he had never witnessed in anyone before or since. He imagined that to be on the receiving end of his wrath was to stare your own death in the face, and he was grateful to have him as a friend. 

There was something more to him, though, this boy with wild eyes hidden behind opaque lenses and a carefully constructed demeanor. He told the boy when he first met him how his inner and outer worlds were in sync, how he had made peace with his past, but the longer he spent talking to the boy, the less sure he was about that. This child was less "calm waters" and more "still waters run deep". 

Piercing eyes like a turbulent storm, vast and endless in their complexity. It was a rarity to see them, but when the boy's lenses fogged up, he would remove them to clean the glass, and he could see it then. The placating smile on his lips was a stark contrast to the devil that danced in his gaze. He felt bad, sometimes, for taking advantage of this troubled youth. 

Small talks and anxiously shared concerns turned into pointed conversations, driven towards his end goal and away from the boy's own needs and concerns. Maybe he was a bad counselor, but this was for everyone's benefit. Even his friend with the troubled eyes would benefit. It was just for a little while, just for a moment or two compared to the eternity he would be able to fashion once he had his answers. The raven child would understand. 

\---

Faces passed quickly, over and over, in a blur that blended all into an incomprehensible mess in his mind. So many students, such an array of torment that must be corrected. It was harrowing to see what these children dealt with every day, but it was fine. It was all for the sake of his research. A face that stuck more often than others was that of the young gymnast. 

Hair like a polished ruby, and eyes to rival even that. To see the light dance along her smile kept him going. One of the few he had found a way to save already. She had her roadbumps, of course, moments of confusion, those horrible seconds where she would start to slip, to recall the truth. But gentle coaxing and a few kind words always righted those errors. Her bliss was something he would never let be stolen. 

Bouncy and bright, she shone like a shimmering star in the sea of darkness that was reality. Proof, a small flicker of proof that his power could truly save. The girl with red diamonds in her eyes was merely a prototype, a first draft in a way. But once he perfected this, he would be able to do so much more. The thought of it kept a smile on his face on even the bleakest days. 

\---

This feeling was one he was not used to. He had seen darkness in others, experienced first hand a sorrow with the devastating power to crush bone between its claws and leave you shattered. Yet this boy, he was another kind of darkness entirely. 

He had met him only briefly. One morning at a train station, the boy had been standing alone, a conflicted look on his face. He approached the child, as he always felt so compelled to do, and asked what was troubling him. What burdens did he have? He could share the weight, it was the least he could do. But the eyes that regarded him were unlike any he'd ever seen. 

Not bright diamonds like his prototype, not a raging storm like his research friend, but an empty void. A despondent feeling clung to every fiber of him. It lashed off his skin like veins of fire that showed themselves in the form of fury. A child who could not touch nor be touched, he did not know how. His response had been cold and empty, mechanical in its pleasantness, false in every way. He was like a carefully constructed machine, one of his own design, surely, but that made it only harder to watch.

The boy with lifeless eyes had looked upon his extended hand and rejected it so vehemently that it had stung. Like a frightened cat lashing out at everyone around it, unable to tell friend from foe. He vowed to himself to help that boy one day, to dig until he found the root of that swirling typhoon of torment so he could take it all away. 

\---

Unexpected. 

Three pairs of eyes, varying in their relation to him, but ones he saw equal importance in all the same. He was finally where he belonged, all powerful and benevolent, capable of bringing everyone to the salvation they so deserved. He was sad to see these three here. One, he understood, the poor child in the black metal mask had known nothing but pain his whole life. He deserved this kindness more than any, yet like the cat, he so adamantly rejected it. The boy's hatred was raw and visceral, a pure feeling that he had no way of breaking through. This boy could not be saved directly, but perhaps through another, there was a chance. 

Wild eyes. A storm that raged ever harsher from behind a mask that did not obscure their power. His complexity was an awe inspiring thing, he held such determination, such an iron will in the face of anything that might harm him. But he was soft, he had his weak points, and the despondent child was his biggest weakness. It was an amazing thing, to see love bloom in a garden thought long dead, but he saw it in both of them. A love that felt familiar, warm and welcoming despite its spikes. A rose of many thorns, but a rose all the same. The raven had fallen in love with the boy who plated himself in metal. Emotions guarded so carefully that surely the raven was the first to ever make cracks. But make cracks he had. 

They were each others weakness, and he could make them accept salvation if he could only get them to see that this was the one way for them to be allowed to remain in each other's lives. 

Then was the girl. His prototype. Her brilliant radiance shining even now. She was weak in many ways, to many things. She had been brainwashed by the rebellious children, but he could fix it easily. A painful memory to face, but if confronted with it, she would break. And broken parts could easily be pieced back together. She would be happier in the end, the pain was needed to coax her back to the light, that was all. 

The blood was the hardest part of it. He had never liked blood. Or violence of any kind, really. But seeing her sister bleed out on the street had the intended effect. The girl's bright eyes had gone dull, and as she sank to her knees, a scream tore itself from her throat. 

He hated to see her suffer like this. 

\---

He did not hold any anger towards them. The boys had done what they thought was best, and it was admirable of them. But diamond eyes had vanished, replaced by a girl with barely a candle light in her gaze. They forced her to suffer more, and she made herself carry on each day in that pain. He couldn't stand it. But he did not blame them. He would just have to confront them with their own weaknesses. He would break them instead, so they could be pieced back together properly. Shattered pieces of glass that could be rebuilt into a breathtaking mosaic. 

\---

The boy with lifeless eyes could not be broken, he found. It seemed he had already been shattered. The fragments of glass more like a fine powder, made finer and finer until it was only a pile of sand. And sand could not be rebuilt, nor could it be torn down. Truly an impossible case. A shame.

But he needed only to convince his friend, he needed only to calm that raging storm and make him see reason, and things would be fixed for everyone. Even the boy made of sand. 

Grey eyes stared back at him, wide and unrecognizable in the pure treachery reflected in them. It was a much stronger feeling of betrayal than he had expected, but it did have the intended effect. The storm quieted. His eyes fell to the table between them. The boy made of sand, about to slip through the raven's fingers like he had so many times before.

He left the boys alone to discuss their predicament. The heartache pulsing off of the stormy eyed boy was tangible, heavy and painful, it felt like a knife cutting into his flesh and digging at his own heart. It was sure to break him. He would make the right choice, he would preserve that thorny rose which had only just begun to bloom. How could anyone possibly be strong enough to willingly give up on their other half like that? 

Giving her up was the most painful thing he had ever done, and even then it had not been entirely conscious. He knew he would not be able to do it again, if given the choice. And if he could not make such a sacrifice, then surely even the most strong willed child couldn't either. 

\---

Utterly defeated. 

All his dreams. 

Everything he had worked for reduced to an endless snow of promises, all melting meaninglessly as they hit the ground. 

He reached one hand up, watching, almost vacant, as his world very literally collapsed around him. He didn't want to go on after this. What would be the point? 

He felt the ground give way beneath him and didn't even try to escape it. He closed his eyes, ready to embrace a void that seemed so welcoming. But a hand caught his, harsh and painful, a jolt that woke up his nerves and made him look up. 

The boy with a storm in his eyes, a fire in his heart, a boy so much stronger willed than he had ever been. A boy who had given up everything he wanted for the sake of what he deemed to be right. He could see the grit of his teeth, the tears in his eyes. For the first time in what felt like like years, he looked back with clear eyes. 

All along… he himself, Maruki, had been the broken one. And Akira had been fighting to repair every broken piece. Not just for Maruki, but for everyone else. 

He had saved them, not Maruki. He had built Sumire a foundation to stand firm upon, not Maruki. He had given Akechi the one thing he so desperately needed, the one thing Maruki could not give, his freedom. 

Maruki teared up, a wetness rolling down his cheeks as his mouth trembled. Akira's voice cut through the last of the haze, sharp and determined. 

"I'm not letting you go!" 

Maruki nodded, hand turning and grasping back, accepting this. Accepting his failings. Accepting, for maybe the first time in his life, the truth. 

_ But for all the ignorant bliss in the world, there are those who stubbornly choose strife. Again and again. These are the children of Eden. The ones who will look at the flawed reality they inhabit, and embrace it. For both the good that sustains them, and the bad that shapes them.  _

**Author's Note:**

> -holding up Maruki- I just think he's neat.
> 
> Seriously though, I love this troubled, troubled man. This was basically just a character exploration of him, how I perceive him, and also a wonderfully fun style experiment!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> You can follow my twitter @PentheDragon to be notified when I post or update a story!


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